


Don't Thank Me

by GingerMistress (Oop)



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: M/M, Or Is he?, izaya is a scum and mikado is naive, sex as currency
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 03:24:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6594664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oop/pseuds/GingerMistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikado is desperate and broke. Izaya isn't exactly known for his philanthropy. </p><p>(Rating will change later.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Thank Me

**Author's Note:**

> The more I write, the more I realize what a trashcan I am. But you're reading this, too, so apparently I'm not alone. See you in hell, friend.

Izaya loves people. He loves watching them succeed and fail in a helpless dance as consistent as the sea. Sometimes he likes to be the one who changes the tides. Sometimes he forgets that he is also subject to the same push and pull. He can't know _everything_ , after all.

 ***

 _Look at him,_ Izaya thinks, fingers laced in front of his mouth, unable to flatten the slightest upward slant of his lips. _He's adorable_.

Mikado Ryuugamine. Simultaneously one of Ikebukuro's rising key players, and yet one of its most unassuming. He has no sense of flash, replaced with a desire to be a shadow puppeteer rather than establish any real reputation, and often Izaya wonders if he has any sense in general. However, there is something in him that registers with Izaya on the level of firing synapses, something small and fragile in Mikado that Izaya's veins are bloated with: Mikado also loves people. Definitely not on the same scale, but there's that familiar green fire in him, too. Izaya can see it.

So he listens to Mikado stammer his way through an unremarkable request, wondering why it took this long for him to approach Izaya in the first place. Mikado knows about him, has known about him since his first day in Ikebukuro, probably. Everyone knows about him. It is one of many differences between them: Izaya has deliberately fostered a reputation, and one that does not come charitably. Usually he might trade information for information (Mikado is surprisingly well plugged into the city for being so naive about how it actually pulses and breathes), but Mikado is always the last to know, the final line between everything reaching peak chaos and nothing quite reaching its intended crescendo.

Izaya stands and walks around his desk. Mikado fiddles with the strap of his messenger bag when he passes by, but doesn't step back like some might. Not that unexpected: he is an acquaintance of both Shizu-chan and Dotachin, after all. Physical intimidation probably doesn't work on him, not that Izaya is all that frightening in stature. Leaning back against his desk, he puts his hands on his hips. "And how will you pay if I decide to tell you?"

"Oh, I—uh, well—" Mikado stammers, and for a moment Izaya thinks he will say, "I didn't realize I would need to pay," or maybe, "But someone could get hurt if you don't tell me!" (He seems like the type to try to appeal to Izaya's humanity [of which he has shockingly little, for someone who loves people so fiercely].) Instead, in the next moment, Mikado takes an unhesitant step forward and presses his mouth against Izaya's. He's cute, eyes squeezed shut, hands in fists at the bottom of his jacket. Izaya allows it, lets it play out until Mikado withdraws, opening his own eyes incredulously. "I-I'm sorry! That was too forward, wasn't it?"

"My," Izaya says. "It has been a long time since I've been offered currency of that kind." He steps forward this time, noting how Mikado still doesn't shrink back. He's got determination, Izaya will grant him that, although he predicts that it will be that same determination that will snuff Mikado out in the end. (He is very rarely wrong.) Izaya lifts a hand to Mikado's face, running his thumb along his tender lips, watching his eyelids flutter over his blue-gray eyes. Eyes like the true sea, not yet contaminated, untouched. Mikado flushes under the slight attention, face blooming pink. "Do you know," Izaya asks, "how cheap a kiss is?"

"What?"

  
"It's going to take much more than that to cover the cost, Little Mikado, and I don't have time to _collect_ right now." Which is true, he does have another engagement tonight. It's a little unfortunate. To Izaya, this information wouldn't be worth what Mikado is offering, but if it's worth it to Mikado, then Izaya thinks it's a bargain. Besides, while he pretty well has Mikado figured out, it never hurts to find out more. If nothing else, Izaya is a parasite that feeds on knowledge. Information. Surely Mikado knows something to _actually_ make it worth Izaya's time.

"Please!" Mikado's hands wring the strap of his bag. "Please," he repeats more softly. "It's all I have. Tell me, and I'll come back so you can… collect." His face achieves a deeper shade of pink. _Adorable_ , Izaya thinks again. But this is a business transaction and aside from that he really has very little interest in Mikado on a personal level. Despite his growing role in the goings-on of the city, he seems rather bland. Izaya has never really gone for the virginal type. They're too easily manipulated and tend to cry an awful lot, both of which take the fun out of everything.

Izaya doesn't remove his hand, keeps brushing Mikado's lips. He hums, pretending to think it over. "Tomorrow, then. Be here at eight pm." When Mikado nods, eyes wide, Izaya gives him the information the way one might give a starving dog a scrap.

"Thank you, Izaya." Mikado is out the door, agile for someone so meek, before Izaya can respond, "Don't thank me."


End file.
